


My Mourning Dove

by Wingless_Writer



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Awkwardness, Depressing, Depression, Feelings, Hatred, Hurt, I Don't Even Know, Illness, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Introspection, I’m sorry, Memories, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Other, Pain, Panic, Panic Attacks, Philosophy, Questions, Sad, Sadness, Secrets, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, answers, thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 21:54:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16146314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wingless_Writer/pseuds/Wingless_Writer
Summary: Thoughts come day by day, a fleeting feeling, a temporary belief. To record such events is deemed to some as unfitting, these words are not directed to you. I ask, do not lay waste to harmless talk. I am writing on behalf of myself and others who have had these same notions, the same questions unanswered and words left unsaid. I am waiting for a time of peace, to leave this life behind is what will liberate me. Until that day comes, I will write my restlesness, this is my Mourning Dove.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s always been a struggle, having to be down here, be like this. Walking day after day to places you know you don’t want to go to, doing things you would rather not, not able to get a choice, a word in edgewise. Its like losing control. But was there ever any control in the first place? Every action, every word and expression, it had always been carved out as a requirement. There is nothing that can be changed, although I wish there was. Backtracking day after day, no final destination, it is just this, all that there ever was. Will there be anything else, there is doubt for that, everything points to the contrary. I hold the slimmest bit of hope that things might be different. I just wish there was a choice.


	2. Chapter 2

Betrayal is nothing new. I am once again certain that this is all that I will ever have. A repeat of years. I should know by now this is how it always ends. Somewhere along the line you brought them too close. You forgot that this is a dangerous game, playing with weapons such as them. It cuts deep, the words spoken, yet you have heard them all before. A knife to what you thought would be thick skin. I am still not used to that stinging feeling. Disbelief would not be a proper enough word to describe it, the hollow feeling that surrounds you when you realize that it happened again. I have been left countless times, names forgotten. They were once dear to me. People fail to acknowledge what this has done, yet I do not tell them. They no longer deserve to know.


	3. Chapter 3

I wonder what it’s like to not fear this life and everything in it. I think sometimes, would it be much better. Reality is a cruel place, fear stops you from going there, and staying. I don’t want to stay there. I don’t want to stay here either. There is no place for me. It’s a terrible feeling really, to belong nowhere. I wish nowhere was a place. Somewhere to go to just escape, be free, for at least a little bit. Nowhere is not a place, I can find no peace, no comfort. Everywhere is loud, unknown, different. Fear will not allow me to go there. It is like another being, a blockade from the rest of the world. Fear has latched itself onto my lungs, these walls are too strong, I cannot move from where I am. Staying seems like the only option.


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes I feel I am not allowed to carry this sense of shame. People will question your thoughts and feelings, turn them on you. It is not something that can be changed, humanity ignoring problems as others rot away inside, convinced by the public that they should be grateful. It is not a question of gratefulness. What I have should not define me. But it is still the same whenever I speak of it. I regret whatever words will tumble out of my mouth in my haste to inform, let others know of my own inquisitions. They do not try to understand. Why would they. It is not them who carries these worries, this sadness. Why should they lift a finger when the other is already holding it. They leave people to suffer silently, not sparing a second glance when they turn their back, not watching when the weight finally becomes to much. People really are horrible.


	5. Chapter 5

It often feels like even minuscule tasks are too much for me. There is guilt whenever I can no longer force myself out of bed. I just stay and listen, silence is fickle, I hold appreciation for things that seldom last. The yelling will come soon enough, it is a routine of my years. I would stay in the silence as long as I could, but it is always interrupted too early, too fast. The pressuring demands of others all but shoving me away from comfort and into uncharted territory, a terrifying ordeal, yet one I have grown accustomed to. Churning out tasks is all I can handle most days, it is easy enough to ignore feelings when you are focused on something so intently. Another day, another task, more energy spent on a life that’s just repeating. If I could escape I would, but opportunity is arbitrary, and so I am left.


	6. Chapter 6

It seems like all that I do will never be enough. I have spent so long trying to appease others with accomplishments that I no longer find pleasing, but when my worth is put to the test it fails in everyone’s eyes. It is like I will never be recognized for more that what I failed to do. The highest award, every acceptance, seems to leave my description when others view me. I am defined by my faults again and again, an agonizing cycle of reoccurrence. No matter what I say or do I will never be enough. How much longer will I be able to hold onto this before I quit. There are only so many things the human body is capable of, I doubt this is one of them. Our minds were not built for such mistreatment, even if I have only recently acknowledged it as such.


	7. Chapter 7

My days are not joyous, I cannot seem to remember when they ever were. It stopped some time ago, when even getting up wasn’t tedious. I can’t imagine a day where everything is easily done, where I would enjoy myself. Days now are long, arduous and tiring. Sleep is a small release before time reverts and the schedule restarts. It is almost disappointing how feeble my mind and body are, physical and mental activities are strenuous. I am closed off from the rest of the world, the cruel and vicious. Speaking to others, going places, sends a strike of fear down my spine. No one must know what goes on inside my mind. The only place I can open my heart is here.


	8. Chapter 8

A sense of forewarning will always overwhelm me. It is something I have grown accustomed to, that sense of dread I feel when I know what will happen. It is the first sign that I know something is not right before it goes wrong. The screaming will usually come. Internally or externally, sometimes there is no difference. The panic that rushes over me can be too much to bear, it is near impossible to keep it at bay. I cannot count the amount of times this has gone by with no interruption, until it will finally go calm again. It always does. The quiet that meets my ears is uncommon, uncomfortable at some points. Let there be a word, a single noise, to distract my mind from this. It is unbearable just waiting for it to happen again.


	9. Chapter 9

It is not common for me to address the problems of this life with others. I keep silent. It is knowledge to me that they will not understand what you are telling them. They have not experienced what you have, cannot fathom what you have saw or heard. My life is unknown to most. Problems will rack through my mind, little space is left. The surprisingly underwhelming feeling of what could only be hurt plagues me. I wish for them to see what has happened to me, to others. The words are enough to drive me insane, the screams will inevitably damage me. I am not fearful under the gaze of death, I stopped long ago. I was sure I would die some days, yet I am still here. It has not come for me yet. I am left waiting.


	10. Chapter 10

This life is pointless. That thought comes to my mind more often than not. We are sent out to the world to do what exactly, better it? This world is temporary. We are but one of billions, soon to die. Then others take our place to attempt the exact same thing. This repeating cycle will have no end. People seek for better lives, and when it does get better they want more. We cause our own problems through this greed. Only a select few can accomplish such a thing, I am not one of them, I have no purpose. I do not want to be a part of what will eventually lead the world to what seems like nothing. Why are we even here in this place. It’s tiring.


End file.
